Confessions Part One: Things I Accidentally Stole From My Friends

Sinner; copyright zgrredek on Flickr

Sinner; copyright zgrredek on Flickr

I think there’s an unspoken statute of limitations for things you accidentally steal from your friends.  You know how it is, you borrow a friend’s shirt one day, you mean to wash it and give it back.  Suddenly six months have gone by and you’re unpacking in your new apartment in a different city and you come across that shirt and you think, is it really worth mailing it back?  I’ll just give it to her the next time I see her.  Except, the next time you see her isn’t until someone is getting married and you’re so stressed about gifts and travel plans and horrible bridesmaids dresses that you forget all about the shirt.  Then you get back home, you see the shirt, you do a face palm slap, and you think, I’ve really got to remember to take that with me the next time I’m going to see her.  Except, the next time you see her is when there’s a funeral, and the last thing on your mind is your friend’s shirt.  Unless it’s your friend’s funeral, at which point you’re pretty much out of luck.

When you’ve borrowed an item and you forget (or “forget”) to give it back, I propose a time limit of three years during which time, if the item is demanded, you must return it as expeditiously as possible.  If the item is not demanded within those three years, you’re free to consider it yours and keep it guilt-free.  I have taken it upon myself to test this theory before making a public proposal, because that’s just how much I care.  Also because I kept forgetting to give the things back.  The statute of limitations has passed on each of the items in the test group, and I now consider them mine.  Here’s what I accidentally stole from my friends:

  1. A rock band T-shirt:  this is the quintessential item that you borrow and never end up returning, partly because you honestly don’t remember and partly because you subconsciously don’t want to remember because the T-shirt is so cool.  Mine is from the now-disbanded Marvelous 3, the most rawk-tastic band around when I was in college, and since they’re no longer together, there will be no more T-shirts ever.  The lead singer was Butch Walker, who is still around and making music (which is also rawk-tastic), but it’s not quite the same when you can’t just blow off your classes, drive for hours to some skanky club, and get back late afternoon the next day just in time to take a Phenomenology exam you didn’t study for.  Sorry, Michelle:  the shirt’s mine now!
  2. Books:  another very common entry on the list of Stuff People Borrow And Never End Up Giving Back.  At least one friend of mine has a policy of never lending books to anyone, even immediate relatives, for this very reason.  I borrowed 100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez from an ex-boyfriend who, if I’m honest, I’m pretty sure had never read it and only kept it around to impress chicks.  I wasn’t dating him for his mind.  Anyway, I read the book and it was life-alteringly fantastic, which frankly my ex-boyfriend wasn’t, so I kept the book and got rid of him.
  3. Lipstick:  this one is mostly limited to women, though not always.  There’s a magic shade for each woman, and there’s no predicting it based on coloring or skin tone or anything.  You could have identical twins and each would have a different magic shade of lipstick.  It’s the shade that, when you put it on, it doesn’t just suit you perfectly, it makes you feel beautiful.  It gives you confidence just to know you’re wearing it.  When you go to replace it, it will inevitably have been discontinued.  I borrowed a tube of lipstick from a friend and it was my magic shade.  She let me use it for a long time because it’s part of the Girlfriend Code to help your girlfriends look fabulous, and eventually I think we both forgot it wasn’t originally mine.  I still have it, though there isn’t much left, because I’ve been hoarding it for things like dates where the guy actually takes me to a nice place.  As you can tell by the fact that there’s still some left, that doesn’t happen very often.  But when it does, I’m ready.

So here it is, my confession:  I accidentally steal things from friends.  To be fair, though, they accidentally steal things from me, too.  It’s kind of nice, really.  When you’ve all been friends long enough, your stuff tends to end up mixed together through some sort of friendship diffusion effect.  You’re over for dinner, and you comment on your friend’s candlesticks, and then you both squint at them and realize at the same moment–they used to be yours!  That’s OK, though, because you borrowed the necklace you’re wearing from her five years ago.  It all works out in the end.  Man, it feels good to get that off my chest!

Lipstick horoscopes


lipstick (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have a theory that you can predict how your day is going to go by the shade of lipstick you put on in the morning.  Guys, obviously this is going to have a very different application for you; the rules I’m about to lay on you really only apply to girls.  But for girls, I think you can take a cue from the shade of lipstick you’re drawn to while making up in order to get an idea of how things are going to play out:


First of all, there are different kinds of red, with different kinds of horoscopes to go with them.  If you’re talking about a warm red, you can expect men dressed as advertising executives from the fifties to take advantage of you while swilling liquor and smoking cigars.  This may be your thing; if so, go for that warm red.  If you pick a dark, purplish red, you can expect to hear a lot of derivative rock music in minor keys by distraught middle-class former English majors.  If you go for the blue-red, and I highly recommend a simple eye with a fine black eyeliner, a couple of coats of mascara, and a bone or taupe shadow to go with it if you do, you may end up killing someone, but you’ll look extremely sexy doing it.  For maximum effect, add matching heels.


Lady GaGa

Lady GaGa (Photo credit: ama_lia)

Again, there are a million different pinks out there.  My personal favorite is a kind of greyish-pink with a little bit of shimmer that’s light without being pale; if you choose this color, you are going to get into a battle of wits for extremely high stakes that you’ll probably win.  I wouldn’t just depend on the lipstick, though.  Have a backup plan, like lipgloss.  There is, of course, the highly unnatural Lady Gaga pink (seriously, she designed a shade exactly along these lines for MAC).  If you choose this shade, be careful when going to restaurants, particularly steakhouses, as you can expect sudden inexplicable urges to wear your entree.  A darker shade of pink, in the rose family, indicates a long sea voyage and unexpected wealth.  I don’t know, I’m running out of ideas here.  This is hard.


The thing about neutral lipstick is that, while there are literally thousands of shades of neutral lipstick, it’s almost impossible to tell them apart.  They all tend to have the same horoscope, which is that you will be overlooked, under-appreciated, taken for granted, and forgotten on your birthday.  Don’t wear neutral colors.  In the kind of life that calls for lipstick, you’re not going to get anywhere or achieve anything by blending in.  Wear purple lipstick.  I can predict with absolute certainty that, at the very least, you’ll get noticed.

Studio publicity portrait of the American actr...

Studio publicity portrait of the American actress Elizabeth Taylor. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Madame Little Blind Girl has spoken.  Cross her palm with silver to show your appreciation, or at least leave a comment on the post.  Choose and apply your lipstick with care!  There’s no telling the far-reaching consequences that decision may have on your life.  Don’t even ask what happens if the lipstick wears off by lunchtime.

And, guys:  whatever shade of lipstick you choose, I guarantee that your day will not be boring.  Just remember to wipe the corners of your mouth and touch up throughout the day.  Oh, and stay away from orange lipstick.  That rule applies to everyone!

Ask a Little Blind Girl, Part 2

Old woman at desk, 1967

Image via Wikipedia

It’s time for another installment of Ask a Little Blind Girl, because there just wasn’t enough crazy in the first go round.  This time, we have some really burning questions that I know you’ve all been wondering about.  I have actually been asked each of these questions–the first two I get pretty frequently.  The last one was just recently posed, but it’s an issue of such magnitude that I’m throwing it in right away, and I think you’ll understand why when you get to it.  So here we go:


1.  Little Blind Girl, I like to go out at night, but I can’t wear contacts and I’m too vain to wear my glasses.  How can I tell if a guy is hot if I can’t actually see him?

–Myopic in Manhattan

Dear Myopic in Manhattan:  Yeah, blind and vain is a really frustrating combination.  But if you’ve conquered the questions of how to put on eyeliner when you can’t see what you’re doing and how to navigate a crowded club in four inch heels with no depth perception, this one’s fairly easy.

Respect M.E.

Image via Wikipedia

Guys will treat girls as crappily as they can get away with.  The cuter the guy, the more he can get away with, because girls as a rule will let him.  Lesson 1 to take from all this:  Girls, grow a f*cking spine and stop putting up with this sh*t.  Lesson 2 to take from all this:  if a guy is treating you really nicely and is showing lots of courtesy, he’s either really ugly, happily married, or gay.

If a guy is treating you like you’re something he found on the bottom of his shoe after he walked the dog, you don’t have to know what he looks like to know he’s hot.  But trust me, he’s not worth it.  You put a lot of effort into getting all prettied up to go out, spend your time with someone who appreciates that.  If you never put your glasses back on, you’ll never know the difference.

2.  Little Blind Girl, why do you spend so long in the bathroom getting ready if you can’t even see what you look like?  What’s the point?

–Definitely a Guy in Way Too Much of a Hurry

Dear Definitely a Guy in Way Too Much of a Hurry:  You have completely misunderstood the point of the bathroom ritual for girls.  This is not just about trying not to look like death warmed over, thereby ensuring that I will appear unprofessional and a poor employment prospect, and it’s also not about attracting guys (although that would be nice) or impressing my girlfriends (who honest to God don’t care).  This is my meditation.


Image via Wikipedia

I could sit around in a lotus position humming for hours, or I could make myself pretty by doing unbelievably damaging things to my hair and putting acid directly on my face.  I choose acid.  Mostly because I find the lotus position incredibly uncomfortable, but also because I like the steam that comes from my curling iron when I’m frying the crap out of my hair.  I like to put on some soothing music, light some candles, maybe have a fruit smoothie, and coat my face in pounds of makeup so no one knows what I really look like.  This has the added benefit that when I turn to my life of crime, no one will be able to give a good description of me.  Bonus!  This is my “me” time.  Just let me have it.


3.  Dear Little Blind Girl:  Who’s sexier, Johnny Depp in full Captain Jack Sparrow regalia or Benedict Cumberbatch reading erotic poetry?


Dear Anonymous:  Oh, my God, why do you hate me?  I have no idea.  It’s like a paradox, like two things with this much sexy can’t exist at the same time or the universe will explode.  It’s just not possible, and yet–does anyone know if Benedict Cumberbatch has actually read any erotic poetry?  We may want to sign a treaty forbidding him to do it, just in case it ends up being too much sexy for one world.

Benedict Cumberbatch

Benedict Cumberbatch (Photo credit: honeyfitz)

And are we talking about really good erotic poetry?  I mean, Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow is the ultimate in visual sexy…but as a Little Blind Girl, I think I’m going to have to go with Benedict Cumberbatch reading erotic poetry.  I never thought the day would come.  Sorry, Johnny.  It’s not you, it’s me.  If anyone knows of any recordings of Benedict Cumberbatch reading erotic poetry, let me know.  Please.  Really, please.

Do first dates count as near-death experiences?

Lara Croft

Image via Wikipedia

Ok, since a decision has been made on my behalf that I should start dating again, which I really think I should have had a say in, but whatever, I want to lay down some ground rules.  Dating should be fun, it should be an adventure, it should not be a nerve-wracking, ego-wrecking form of torture akin to waterboarding.  Unless you’re into that.  Which I’m not.  So I’m setting up some ground rules to try to keep the process enjoyable:

1.  Getting Ready

For me, the date starts long before either you pick me up or we meet at whatever location.  I want to Get Ready.  Guys, I realize you don’t understand the process of Getting Ready, but it’s usually the best part of the date, so just let me have this one.  I like to spend a couple of hours in the bathroom cleansing, exfoliating, maybe putting on a nice calming mask, and then piling on about a pound of makeup and hair product so that I can look exactly like I usually do, but better.  I like to fake the I Eat Right And Take Care Of Myself look, because it’s never going to happen naturally.  I put on music, light candles, consult makeup books, ponder outfits…I’m a girl.  Let me do this and we’ll start out already having a great date.

2.  Too Much Information

I guess it’s good to have some warning, but I don’t really need to know about all your health issues on the first date.  Or the second.  I mean, if you’re dying of cancer, go ahead and tell me that.  That one’s important.  But if you’ve had a life-long battle with Irritable Bowel Syndrome, while that is certainly not any fun at all, I don’t necessarily need to hear about it at the restaurant, by candlelight, as we’ve just finished introducing ourselves.  That’s really more of a We’re In A Relationship Now kind of conversation, not a I Haven’t Yet Gotten Into Her Pants kind of conversation.  Think to yourself:  “If I were her and I had just told me this, would I be more or less likely to sleep with me?”  If the answer is more likely, go for it.  If it’s less, hold off until you cross the finish line.  Words to live by.

3.  Facebook Isn’t For First Dates

Please, please don’t friend request me right before or after our first date.  I want to be able to post about how I’m getting ready (see #1 above) or about how the date went and about how I rate you as a potential boyfriend.  I don’t want you to see that yet.  That’s the girl equivalent of peeing with the bathroom door open–which is another thing I don’t understand, but I’ll save that for a different post.  Also, things might not work out.  If you’re a jerk to me, I want to be able to post on Facebook about how awful you are and how glad I am we’re not together.  If you’re not a jerk to me and it still doesn’t work out, I don’t want to stare at your picture when it randomly pops up on my screen and start sobbing because you’ve ripped my little blind heart to pieces.  Then there’s the awkward phase where I know things aren’t working out but you don’t yet, or vice versa, and that just makes for a crap ton of awkward.  Just wait until we both know we’re on to something.

Ah, dating.  When else can a girl dress like a hooker and demand to be treated like a lady?  This should be fun!  It should be an action movie, a thriller, with chase sequences and fight scenes and maybe some explosions.  I’ve noticed there aren’t many of these things in most of the romantic comedies I’ve watched, but then, I’ve always taken a slightly different approach to romance.  Put your affairs in order, slip on a bullet-proof vest, and let’s go on a date!

Donate a Mirror to a Celebrity

There are all manner of appalling, heartrending tragedies all around the globe.  Here at iliketheworldfuzzy, we’re highlighting the sadly-neglected plight of celebrities without mirrors.  Throughout the year, but especially now during awards season, it is painfully obvious that many celebrities do not have that basic staple so many of us take for granted:  a mirror.  It is also clear that many do not have true friends who will tell them when they look completely ridiculous or when an outfit or hairstyle simply does not suit them, but there are some problems even the Little Blind Girl can’t fix.  So we’re taking up a collection to bring relief to the needy celebrities who appear to have no idea what they look like when they step outside the door and fall prey to the ruthless paparazzi.

These poor celebrities have no points of reference when attempting to apply the always-tricky smoky eye makeup technique.  They have no idea that the floral pants craze currently circulating among those with more money than sense looks absolutely horrendous and that such prints should stay on the bedsheets in the spare room where they belong.  Even the obscenely good-looking are not exempt.  Oh, Jessica Alba, beloved of this blog, had you no reflective surface before you got dressed in the morning?  Were you so distracted by your rugrats that you forgot to check your reflection before you left the house?    Or are you one of the many unfortunates deprived of that basic celebrity necessity?  Look at those pants!  We are in a state of emergency.  The need for mirrors among celebrities is dire, and the problem is only getting worse.

We can’t hope to fix the problem overnight, but we can give what we’ve got to help stem the tide of fashion and beauty disasters currently flooding the streets of Hollywood.  There are those whose bangs more resemble a crew cut than a soft fringe.  There are those who look at us innocently from behind raccoon eyes of excessive eyeshadow and mascara, unaware of their hideous plight.  How can we turn our backs on these suffering idols?  Take out your checkbooks, dig through your attics for old mirrors, and give back to those who have given us so much.  Give a celebrity a mirror, and help make the world (as represented by that cultural mecca, Los Angeles) a better place.  We here at iliketheworldfuzzy thank you, and with your help, we will put a mirror in the home of every celebrity.  Never stop trying, and keep on seeing the world fuzzy!


Guide to Types of Female Hotness

Hanging out with a bunch of guys, I naturally hear a lot of behind-the-scenes guy talk.  At this point, I may be an honorary guy.  Except for my undying love for Johnny Depp.  And my obsession with makeup.  And all the skirts.  And the, you know, reproductive organs…ok, so I’m not a guy.  But I speak fairly fluent guy, and I’m occasionally called upon to interpret for my female friends.  So for the benefit of my female friends and followers, I am posting a Guide to Types of Female Hotness.  I would think this would be fairly easily adapted for male hotness, but there might be physical fights over what category Robert Pattinson goes in (if any), so it might be best to leave it alone.  Anyway, here are the categories:

Sorority Girl Hot

By Absinthe via Wikimedia Commons

This is one of the temporary categories of hotness; some kinds of hotness last longer than others.  It is generally recognized that merely being a sorority girl will convey some kind of hotness on a girl which can overcome the inexplicable tendency of such girls to wear snow- and rain-boots with miniskirts.  This kind of hotness can be recognized by the year-round tan from the tanning booth sessions that Daddy pays for, the inappropriately dark eye makeup and bronzer on almost all occasions, and the inability to make a statement that doesn’t end up sounding like a question.  “So, I was doing my laundry?  And I ran out of quarters? And I had to leave my clothes there while I got some change?”  Celebrity example:  Mischa Barton.


Trashy Hot

Image via Wikipedia

This is another major temporary category of hotness.  The window for trashy hotness may be even smaller than that for sorority girl hotness, and is similar but distinguishable in subtle yet distinctive ways.  Trashy hot girls will often have thicker eyeliner than sorority girls, and their hair will generally be more over-processed.  A good rule of thumb is to check the ends of the hair, which will typically be fried to a crisp.  There is also a higher incidence of hairstyles best left in the eighties among the trashy hot.  Perhaps the biggest giveaway is the mother:  while the mother of a hot sorority girl will generally look well-put-together and may be wearing clothing items of camel, taupe, or beige, the mother of a trashy hot girl will often sport even more makeup than her daughter and will almost always be swathed in spandex.  If tempted by the trashy hot girl, taking a look at the mother and realizing how the trashy hot girl is going to look in a few years should do the trick.  Celebrity example:  Britney Spears.

Scary Hot

By chris_nett via Wikimedia Commons

This category is for the girls who, while objectively physically attractive, make guys think they might cannibalize their partners after copulation, a la the praying mantis.  As opposed to the two categories above, girls in this category tend to have extremely pale skin.  They also often, but do not always, have unnaturally dark hair and tattoos.  They rarely smile, instead adopting a nihilistic scowl at a world that is so clearly beneath them and at the little insects that crawl on its surface and call themselves human.  While sorority girls and trashy hot girls will often wear pale or hot pink lipstick, scary hot girls will usually wear dark lipstick in addition to dark eye makeup, and may display various piercings.  They can usually take a man down using the heels on their platform combat boots alone.  Scary hot girls are viewed with trepidation, but also with an undeniable fascination and exude the allure of the forbidden.  Approach with caution.  Celebrity example:  Angelina Jolie, the early years (and, some would say, the later ones as well).

Smoking Hot

By Luke Ford via Wikimedia Commons

Also known as smokin’ hot or, colloquially, bangin’ hot.  Guys, this girl is Too Hot For You and you have no chance with her.  This is the head cheerleader plus the hot babysitter plus that model in the magazine you used to hide from your mom.  This girl walks into a room and the music plays, the fan blows her hair back, and everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at her.  She is hot in a little black dress, jeans and a tee shirt, or the figure-hugging sweats she wears to the gym.  If you are thinking of approaching a Smoking Hot girl, 1)  Don’t.  It’s pointless, and you’ll only embarrass yourself.  2)  Write out what you’re going to say in advance because, if you are able to attract her attention, you will immediately lose the power of coherent thought when her eyes flicker across your face.  3)  Don’t.  It’s a given that she’s already with her male equivalent, a man who could almost certainly put you on the ground in under ten seconds.  But hey, keep hope alive.  Celebrity example:  Megan Fox.

Jessica Alba

By Miguel from London, United Kingdom via Wikimedia Commons

There is a category so rarified that only one individual fits all criteria.  The epitome of hotness, as I have gleaned from my conversations with guy friends, is Jessica Alba.  She has the ability to be both pregnant and sexy at the same time.  While it is generally agreed that she is hotter as a brunette than as a blonde, she is still the standard by which all hotness is judged no matter what her hair color.  She compounds the offense by actually seeming to be really nice, and once presented at an awards show for scientists and technicians at which no other hot people were present.  She, by herself, will raise the hotness quotient of any room to near-tropical levels.  Celebrity example:  um, Jessica Alba?

So there you have it.  Girls, never say I did nothin’ for ya.  I’m not saying it’s fair, I’m not saying it’s right, I’m saying welcome to life with the guys.  If you are among the unfortunate women who were not born as Jessica Alba, I’m told there’s still hope.  You just may have to bring your own music and fan for when you enter a room.  Good luck, happy hunting, and try not to cannibalize your mates!

In the eye of the beholder

Beauty Products

Image by OrangeCounty_Girl via Flickr

I’ve received some questions about how a legally blind girl manages with makeup, so I thought I’d post a typical day’s beauty routine.  Maybe it will answer a few questions; probably, it will raise a few more.

7:00 AM:  Alarm goes off.  Pretend I don’t really need to get up yet, hit snooze several times.

7:21 AM Look at alarm clock in panic, jump out of bed and into shower.

7:22 AM Debate whether to use volumizing or hydrating shampoo.  Think, do I want to go for a Kate Middleton look or an Angelina Jolie look with my hair today?  Realize likelihood of either look actually panning out, sigh, reach for whatever’s nearest.

7:25 AM Carefully massage conditioner only onto length of hair as have been told to do by trade journals, a.k.a. beauty magazines.  Let conditioner soak in while hesitating between exfoliating face wash and deep pore cleansing face wash.  End up using same orange goop have used since high school.

7:32 Take life in hands by attempting to shave while blind and with hot water streaming in eyes.  Cut self, curse, repeat.

7:41 Step out of shower, dry self, bandage wounds.  Look closely in mirror.

7:42 Sit sobbing on toilet, asking self why self looked in mirror just out of the shower.  Am hideous, am ravaged by age, am doomed to die alone.

7:46  Gather courage in hands, apply makeup with trowel, check in mirror again.  Am slightly less hideous, now willing to face public exposure.

7:54 Carefully avoid scale.

7: 55 Apply volumizer, shine enhancer, heat protector, styling spray, styling gel, blow dryer, curling iron, and product from Home Shopping Network am unwilling to name as is too embarrassing.  End up with hair resembling neither Kate Middleton nor Angelina Jolie, but closer to Olsen twins during their celebrated Bag Lady period.

8:12 Get dressed, eat breakfast, check news to make sure we aren’t at war with anyone new since yesterday.

8:15 Leave for work.

8:30 Arrive at office.  Boss arrives at same time, says to self “oh, you kids, you can just roll out of bed and look pretty.”  Feel all was worthwhile.  Proceed with rest of day.

I think the lesson of this post is, beauty is never in the eye of the beholder when the beholder is looking in the mirror, even when the beholder can’t actually see herself clearly.  Maybe especially then.  Anyway, there you go:  fairly typical for women, I think, regardless of visual acuity.  I think the part my colleagues will find funniest about this post is the part where I claim to arrive at work by 8:30…